


Sorry for the Inconvenience

by asyndese



Series: Viravos Office!AU [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Aaravos being a presumptuous little shit, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, M/M, Office Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Suits, The slow and inevitable corruption of Viren, Viren in denial, Viren's selective racism, office!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asyndese/pseuds/asyndese
Summary: Viren refuses to turn around at the familiar click of the door lock slotting into place, at the quiet shuffle of designer shoes against the linoleum floor of the copy room."I missed you during kick-off," Aaravos says behind him by way of greeting, a self-satisfied smirk colouring his inflection. Viren is not entirely surprised by the elf seeking his company as Aaravos particular likes to harass him on Wednesdays.--In which Aaravos takes what he wants and Viren lets him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so any mistakes you find... my own. Entirely. Much embarrassment, very shame. Hope you guys like it anyway.
> 
> Please also see this amazing illustration by [@meatgomad](https://twitter.com/meatgomad) at Twitter! --> [Copy Machine](https://twitter.com/meatgomad/status/1140368133716361216)

Viren refuses to turn around at the familiar click of the door lock slotting into place, at the quiet shuffle of designer shoes against the linoleum floor of the copy room.

"I missed you during kick-off," Aaravos says behind him by way of greeting, a self-satisfied smirk colouring his inflection. Viren is not entirely surprised by the elf seeking his company as Aaravos particular likes to harass him on Wednesdays. Viren guesses it has to do with how far away the weekend still is and Aaravos has always been a selfish bastard. But he hoped he could avoid him a little bit longer. Just enough to regain his composure and for the deep ache in his backside to lessen, at least.

"I have better things to do than listen to Opeli's self-righteous lecture." He feeds the copier another sheet and watches the white light flicker along the closed lid with a stoic crease between his eyebrows.

"Ah _Viren_ ," Aaravos just sighs, far too close, his warm breath ghosting over his neck. Viren does not turn to look at him as his back becomes tense with dread, anticipation, a little bit of excitement too. He hates how his heart lurches into his throat from so little but he hates Aaravos more for making him feel this way in the first place.  

"Don't bother," he bites out, gathering the copied sheets from the tray. Aaravos' cool fingertips against his wrist stop him dead in his tracks.

"Look at me," Aaravos simply says, orders, and Viren reluctantly obeys. There is a knowing smile tugging at the corner of Aaravos' lips as he leans in and Viren stumbles back, his tailbone bumping into hard plastic. The elf is right there, fills his entire field of vision and Viren’s gaze involuntarily drops down to where the top buttons of Aaravos' dress shirt expose a triangle of dark skin, the hint of the star mark peeking out. The elf always dresses smartly, getting away with not wearing a tie as an external consultant. It is quite maddening, all in all.

"I don't have time for this," Viren tries to argue, eyes snapping back up to the elf’s face. But Aaravos just kicks his legs apart with one foot against Viren's shoes, his arms framing Viren's hips, effectively pinning him against the copier. This is not good, not at all. He should have more self-control than this, tell Aaravos off, do something, _anything!_

"It's inappropriate and-"

His protest gets cut short as the elf licks over his cheek, soft tongue scraping along the stubble there, as hot as it is filthy and he releases a shivery breath when Aaravos cups his him through his grey dress pants.

The elf arches an eyebrow at Viren's pinched expression before he pointedly looks down at his groin, at the hard outline of his erection and Viren realises with a jolt he's been aroused since the elf had said his name.

"You were saying?"

"Meeting," Viren manages a little wild, hips twitching forward with every little squeeze of Aaravos' fingers, seeking friction. "At four. Need to."

"Well, we better hurry then," Aaravos replies, voice deep and promising, burying Viren under its tenor.  He means to push the elf off him before this can escalate further, before he makes a fool of himself again but he's too weak, merely widens his stance for Aaravos to push a thigh between his legs.

The elf just knows how to get under his skin, ever since he transferred to their department four months ago. Always watching Viren, his eyes so intense he stumbles over his own words during meetings like a bumbling idiot, like some teenager who cannot keep it together. Before Aaravos, Viren thought he knew who he was, what he liked. He is not so sure anymore after that damned elf reduced him to desperate moans and bitten back pleas in no time at all. Has made him realise how depraved he really is on more than one occasion when he licked him open and pliant inside the men's toilet. As he wantonly fucked him into the wall of the supply room until Viren's back ached and his knees gave out. The elf's hunger is insatiable, it seems, and he cannot fathom for the life of him why he decided to bestow that intense focus on Viren, of all people.

Aaravos’ clever fingers loosen Viren’s tie with the flick of a wrist, sliding the silk from under his collar in a fluid motion. Viren lets him, watches dazedly as Aaravos wraps it up and places it carefully on the supply table next to them before he continues with Viren’s shirt. Slow, sensual, buttons slipping through the holes one by one until he reaches his belt. Viren realises he could stop him at any point, twist out of where he’s trapped against the copier and leave, save his dignity and the crispness of his suit.

But he cannot move, cannot seem to bring himself to swat the hands away that pull up his undershirt until it bunches beneath his armpits, exposing him. Cannot do anything at all but whimper when his nipples are teased into flushed, hard nubs. His boxers have become uncomfortably tight, wet where he is leaking into the cotton. The unmistakable clink of his belt buckle coming undone sends a shiver down his spine. _Pathetic_.

“Always so sensitive,” Aaravos murmurs into his ear, tongue curling briefly around the shell.  “No matter where I touch you.”

"Please, I-I can't afford to," Viren interrupts, a bit belatedly and catches Aaravos's thick wrist in a loose grip. The cool steel of the elf's watch bites into Viren's palm, calming him enough to clear the heated fog in his head.

Aaravos simply looks at him, twisting out of his hold and assesses Viren's flushed face with firm fingers to Viren’s jaw, noting the quick, shallow breaths that cause Viren's stomach muscles to flex with each inhale. His eyes are as hot as his touch as he runs his thumb over Viren' bottom lip, freeing it from where he is worrying it with his teeth.

"Not today," Viren concedes as a flush heats his face.

Aaravos just looks at his mouth, smoothing his thumb over the cupid bow, the corner of his lips, to the dip where his beard starts.

"I see," he finally murmurs and his hand drops away.

Viren breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe Aaravos is not beyond reason after all.

“Good, yes, thank you.” He runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure.

“I didn’t say you were free to go.” Aaravos just smirks and his shoes creak against the linoleum of the copier room as the elf goes down onto his knees unexpectedly. Even like this, Aaravos seems in control of the situation, looking up at Viren with his pupils blown impossibly wide, large hands framing Viren's hips in possessive confidence.

"Let _me_ assist you.” It’s not so much a question as a demand and Viren nods weakly. The tips of his ears prickle with heat at the hiss of his zipper.

 _Oh gods_ , he thinks desperately. _It's really happening._

It's too late now to stop this, he cannot turn back from this. Does not want to if he is honest with himself, the peak of tongue at the corner of Aaravos' mouth is too much of a filthy insinuation.

The elf's touch is dry and warm as he draws Viren out, Aaravos even sighs with obvious pleasure at the sight of him and smears the clear fluid beading at the tip with the pad of his thumb. It sends a dark spark through Viren and he bites back an undignified moan before it can fully form.

He watches Aaravos circle the base with his fist, jerking Viren lazily before he brushes his lips against the side of his cock, mouthing at him as if he could not imagine anything better. Viren’s hips chase the light touch on their own accord and he has to use the copier behind him to support himself, its plastic edges digging into his back uncomfortably. But it's the good kind of pain, one that helps him keep his breathing measured, keeps his dignity intact at the first wet touch of a clever tongue, of fingers stroking over the sensitive skin of his balls.

"The others?" Viren belatedly remembers but Aaravos' laugh is a warm rush of air against his groin, thrilling all on it's own.

"At lunch. Now, why don't you drop this ridiculous act, save both our time," Aaravos demands and licks a searing stripe of heat up to the head, before he tastes the wetness at the tip with an appreciative hum. Viren's heart nearly jumps through his throat.

 _"Alright, yeah_ ," his voice sounds hoarse even to himself as his legs shake apart with want at the encouraging dig of Aaravos' fingers into the muscle of his ass. It's too good to resist. " _Fuck._ "

Aaravos' mouth opens up under him beautifully, lips stretched wide as Viren pushes in. He’s hot inside and when Aaravos hollows his cheeks, Viren forgets how to breathe for a heart-stopping moment.

There are undignified noises locked in his chest and the elf seems intent on pulling them out if him like fishhooks when he swallows around Viren, allowing Viren to feel the wet glide of his tongue on the underside of his cock. Like he wants it, like he enjoys the taste. And wouldn't that be fucking perfect? Just add another nail to the coffin of Viren's self-restraint.

From beneath his ridiculously pale eyelashes, Aaravos is watching Viren intently. It's unnerving, and his stomach drops when Aaravos finally closes his eyes and bobs his head, taking him all the way in until his nose brushes over Viren's lower abdomen, until he feels himself tap the back of the elf's throat.

Only once has Aaravos been on his knees for Viren but it was merely a quick thing to rile him up. Not this drawn out, sensual display of debauchery that leaves both of them panting, on the verge of moaning.

He reaches out a hand and Aaravos' cheek feels hot against his palm, his star freckles dimmed, an unusual sight as only the strain of exertion - of holding Viren up by the hips, of fucking him into bed sheets or against cheaply plastered walls - manages to give Aaravos a healthy flush.

But _this_ is a new look. Viren likes it - a lot, in fact - and he thrusts his hips forward a little just to see what that would do to the elf. As expected, Aaravos' eyes snap open to glare at him. The rumble of his growl is so low it reminds Viren of a great predator, a warning perhaps. Viren elects to ignore it and curls his fingers around one of Aaravos' horns. There is slick saliva rolling down Viren's length and Viren pulls him forward, impatient and greedy now, heedless of the teeth grazing him. To urge him closer, to hear him choke.

"You, _ahh-_ you like sucking dick?" He needs to know, searching Aaravos' face, hoping for a mere glimpse of vulnerability as he rubs his thumb along the seam of Aaravos' lips where they stretch around his cock. Viren has no doubt the elf has done this before, but for Viren it’s an overwhelming experience, one not even his wife granted him when they had still been in love.

Aaravos' eyes narrow slightly before he moves his head back until only the most sensitive part of Viren' length remains on the flat of his tongue. Viren takes in a sharp breath, wanting to fuck back into the slick warmth but Aaravos' hold on Viren's hips is like a vice, bruising and unrelenting. Viren cannot bring himself to truly care, not with the way Aaravos' tongue teases along the underside of the head, lapping up the precome gathering there.

" _Aaravos_ ," Viren stutters when Aaravos finally sucks him back in again, as deep as he would go. There is a triumphant grin etched into the corners of the elf's mouth when Viren's head falls back, eyes screwed shut. His balls feel tight and he can feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, each flick of Aaravos' skilled tongue pushing him closer, each squeeze to his ass bridging the gap between mere arousal and blind-hot _want_.

When Aaravos pulls his pants and underwear down to his knees, Viren opens his eyes again. The elf looks wild with his hair disheveled, braid coming loose from Viren's hands. His eyes, too, are unsually bright. They hold Viren's own as he opens his mouth wide and pulls back, letting him watch as his cock glides wetly out of his mouth until it bounces out in a lazy arch, strings of saliva breaking with the motion. It's an obscene view and Viren's face grows hot, hotter than even his spit-glistening cock feels.

"Tell me what you need.” Aaravos’ voice sounds rough.

" _Please,_ " he half-gasps, a little out of it. Aaravos understands him anyway, sucking two of his fingers between his swollen lips to wet them with a dark-colored tongue.

"You want this?" Aaravos asks with a smirk as he slides them into the intimate space behind Viren's balls and along the cleft of his ass. Viren bites his lower lip again, simply nods as he angles his hips in breathless anticipation.

It does not take much for Aaravos to press past the resistance there, his slick middle finger pushing in so perfectly, so deliciously easy that it leaves Viren tingling all over. Aaravos finds his prostate with practiced ease and he rubs over the bundle of nerves until Viren rolls his hips back into the insistent strokes, urging him deeper without words, does not need them, it's all written on his face.

He curses when another finger squeezes into him alongside the first, breaching him just right. He’s close, that overwhelming _need_ expressing itself in goosebumps shivering up his neck. He knows he must be a red-faced mess by now, desperate for release and he grabs onto the copier behind him to anchor himself as Aaravos mimics something much cruder with his fingers, works him open so good, stretching the rim whenever he pulls out.

It leaves him craving something bigger, _better_ , to fill him up. Wants Aaravos' hands on his hips to pull Viren back into deep, languid thrusts-

"Oh fuck- _fuck_ me," he moans at the memory, of what could be.

"Later, sweetheart,” Aaravos promises and Viren has half a mind of taking himself in hand and painting the elf’s dumb smirk white for that cheeky attitude.

But then Aaravos guides Viren's achingly hard cock back into his mouth like he was starving for it, making a show of gagging himself and Viren does not think of anything at all after that when the elf curls his fingers just right--

“Ahnn _stars,_  you-” he breaks off in a silent groan as his body seizes up, starting from the fingers in his ass and acing down his legs, can even feel it in his toes, as it rips through him with the immediacy of a whip.

To Aaravos' credit, the elf never breaks eye contact as Viren shoots down his throat, one hand fisted in the elf’s hair to keep him in place. Some of it spills over his lips, half open to let Viren _see,_ trickling down his chin and dimming the stars there. Aaravos' throat contracts around his cock as he finally swallows, sucking the cum out of him with a deep rumble of a moan and Viren’s knees nearly buckle.

It’s only Aaravos’ steady hand cupping the swell of his upper thigh that keeps him upright as he’s coming down from his high. Their laboured breath mixes with the noise of the A/C above them, making Viren hyper aware of where he is, of how Aaravos' tongue hungrily licks the oversensitive head of his cock clean, how hot Aaravos' breath feels against the cooling wetness there.

He watches in a daze as Aaravos finally stands up, procuring a tissue to clean his chin and fingers, before he folds it neatly and puts it back in his pocket.

"Look at you, what a mess,” the elf comments conversationally despite the gravel in his voice and presses one possessive hand against Viren's chest where his heart is still hammering away. "You'd let me fuck you right now. Wouldn't you?"

Aaravos is so close he can smell his aftershave and Viren cannot _think;_ cannot hold back a compliant moan any more than he can stop the tremors from the after-shocks still tingling up his body.

" _Yes_."

Too fucked out to lie when they both know the truth. Still, his open admission has Aaravos curse low in elvish, bright eyes closing momentarily to compose himself before he looks at Viren again and he grabs Viren's hand to bring it down to the outline of his neglected cock hidden inside the folds of his pants. Viren knows its shape well, remembers with startling clarity the sensation of slowly being speared by it less than a week ago. 

It must have shown on his face for Aaravos puts his hand over Viren's again, linking their fingers and squeezing like a promise. A promise to be _good._ Viren swallows the sudden lump in his throat, wants to say something but the words escape him like intangible smoke when Aaravos rubs his noses against Viren's.

“At seven, shall we say? My office.” It’s not much of an order, lacking the confidence Aaravos usually wields like a club to get his way.

Instead of a scathing reply, Viren angles his head until they are kissing for the first time that day, slow and sensual with the tangy taste of sex heavy on Aaravos’ tongue. The elf moans into him, grinding into his palm as Viren smoothes it down his erection in deliberate strokes. There's wetness seeping through the sleek material and Viren swirls his thumb over it just to hear Aaravos' breath catch in his throat.

He could probably have the elf right now, here in the copy room, any way he wants. It is tempting but lunchtime is over and dallying more than they already have is not just a bad idea, it is a dangerously _stupid_ idea.

Aaravos does not put up much of a fight when Viren breaks the kiss and gently pushes him away. He too knows they are indulging on borrowed time.

Clearing his throat, Aaravos adjusts his erection until Viren cannot tell that it’s even there in the first place, tucked safely between his belly and waistband. Still, everything else is a dead give away: from the dimmed stars on his flushed cheeks to the mussed up hair he cannot really seem to tame no matter how many times he combs his fingers through and rebraids it.

 _Serves him right,_ Viren thinks smugly and does up his own fly and belt, stuffing his undershirt back into the waistband with trembling fingers. Without comment, Aaravos swats his hands away and buttons up his dress shirt for him. He even flips up Viren's collar.

Viren tips back his head and accepts the brush of knuckles under his chin with a put-on huff while Aaravos carefully works his tie. When he looks down, he finds he is sporting an eldredge knot.

“Put up a neon sign, why don’t you?” he grouses but Aaravos just smirks and pats his chest affectionately.

“Much better than this horrible… what do you call it? Sloppy Joe? _Two_ -in-Hand?”

“Thank you, Aaravos. That would be all,” Viren sneers but with less venom than usual and smoothes down his collar. “Presentable?”  
  
“Of course,” Aaravos grins and moves aside to gesture at the door like a butler. Gathering his copies from the tray, Viren loosens his tie a bit then unlocks the door to the copy room-- only to be met with Janai’s glare and an accusing finger tapping her smart watch.

“HR will hear from this,” she threatens. Her eyes narrow to slits once she notices Aaravos’ inconspicuous smile behind Viren’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, HR will _definitely_ hear from this. Mark my words.”

She does not move an inch, red heels planted stubbornly into the ground as Viren squeezes past her with embarrassment burning his cheeks. She just watches them with judging eyes before she finally enters the copy room.

“Gods, it _stinks_ ,” she curses at them but Aaravos has already pulled Viren around the next corner into the hallway, back to their offices, laughing as if he were a mischievous twelve year old. It's contagious and Viren cannot find it in himself to mind the inconvenience of Aaravos disrupting his day. He needs a proper wash up later but for now he’s feeling more relaxed, less nervous about his presentation and perhaps, just perhaps, he will meet Aaravos at 7 after all.

See that new leather couch for himself that Aaravos has been bragging about the last two weeks and let the elf have his way with him.

Just this once.

Until next Wednesday.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viren's had a rough week. A brief recap.

On Wednesday last week, Viren had already been struggling to balance e-mail correspondence and finishing that blasted presentation on next quarter’s market analysis. He had not needed Aaravos bugging him for attention on top of that, but that’s what happened anyway, the elf always calling him at the most inopportune moments like some clairvoyant freak.

When his name flashed up in the display, Viren considered leaving it unanswered but Aaravos was a stubborn dog, letting it ring beyond what was considered polite and Viren eventually relented, annoyed by the ringtone as much as by the caller.

Picking up the receiver, he snarled “What?” as a way of greeting and was met with that silky voice that could do _things_ to a person without Aaravos needing to be actually present. 

“ _You seem tense. Are you tense, Viren? Let me help you_.”

How his comment led to Viren touching himself through his slacks, moaning into the receiver in a matter of minutes, he couldn’t say with certainty, only that he was entirely too weak to the potency of Aaravos’ dirty talk. Viren had been sorely tempted to allow that thread of conversation to come to its natural conclusion but his outlook calendar popped up on his screen, reminding him that he had a meeting with Harrow in fifteen minutes, dousing whatever desire had been coursing through his veins like cold water.

He hung up without another word and used the remaining time to just breathe with his head on the cool tabletop, trying to calm the worst of it and cursing the elf all the while.

On Thursday, Aaravos bent Viren over the desk in Viren's office, the blinds turned down only so the afternoon sun wouldn't glare into Aaravos's eyes and spoil his view. They were nearly caught by Opeli knocking on his door and Aaravos managed to zip up in record time and was on the other side of the small office space in a matter of seconds, looking entirely unbothered as if he'd not been giving it to Viren hard and deep just moments ago.

Viren hadn't been nearly as lucky in his composure, dazed and flushed, having fallen into his chair with his pants pooling around his ankles and lube soiling the leather. In his fist, he clenched the damp, balled up tie Aaravos had used to stifle Viren’s moans. Luckily, his desk obscured the view and Opeli mistook his rumpled appearance and panicked expression for anger.

That had not stopped her from chewing them both out over some irrelevant paragraph in the data protection ordinance they apparently had neglected to adjust to the new regulations.

Either way, it had been a close call, too close, and Viren kicked Aaravos out the moment Opeli left, banning any improper advances in his office henceforth. Aaravos had merely smirked. 

On Friday, Aaravos did not show his face all day, trapped in meetings just like Viren, running from one room to the next with an assortment of print-outs and materials jammed under his arm. Fridays were supposed to be relaxing, with all decisions postponed to a more productive day like Monday or Tuesday, what had Harrow been _thinking._

The only instance Viren ran into Aaravos was during the late afternoon down in the break room, pouring himself a much needed coffee. The elf gave him a tired smile, and then wordlessly took an empty mug and pressed the button on the monstrous machine Zubeia had installed as a favor for her employees. He’d handed it to Viren, coffee crema, just what he preferred, and they both drank their coffee quietly, leaning against the counter side by side. Shortly after, the peace was rudely interrupted by a panic-faced Gren who could barely hold onto his reports and roll-up, telling Viren frantically that he needed him to come and take a look at the beamer as it had stopped working again.

On Saturday night, Viren lay on the couch a little drunk from a bottle of wine, his head cushioned on his arm and the tv running in the background. With Soren out for a late visit to the gym and Claudia spending the weekend with her mother, he'd been alone for the first time in months. 

Usually he would have ignored his work phone buzzing with incoming messages this late but it gave him something to do other than switch between channels and opening a second bottle of wine. Of course it was Aaravos, who else would even bother him, but his messages were unexpectedly sweet and not as overbearing as his usual goading. It left Viren with a warm tingle in the pit of his stomach and he caught himself just in time before his thumb could send off the overly mushy reply. Erasing the invitation to come over (dangerous, stupid, he was _drunk.)_  he rewrote it after reconsidering what he actually wanted.

A mere few seconds later, Aaravos called him, voice so filthy low and suggestive Viren felt the trembling echo of his own orgasm even after the cum on his hand and stomach had cooled.

On Sunday, his phone remained blissfully quiet. The same could not be said about Soren and Claudia, bickering over the right to the console like two ten year olds and if that’s how it was, then Viren would have to play grown-up again and take it away. 

How that argument ended with all three of them playing Mario Party on the couch, yelling at the screen and elbowing each other, Viren couldn’t even remember. Soren’s reasoning had been generally all over the place and Claudia was Claudia, so tag-teaming Viren wasn’t fair.

At any rate, he lost nearly every challenge, coming in second to last and that, at least, had not been a surprise. He’d wanted to text Aaravos about it but thought better of it, thumb hovering over the send button before pocketing his phone again. He was acting silly.

On Monday, Aaravos cornered him in the store room, forcing Viren face-first against the wall and grinding his stiff length between his cheeks through their dress pants, hands never leaving his hips and gripping hard enough to bruise until Viren felt light-headed from pent-up desire, the stationary he'd come in for littered and forgotten around his feet. 

Yet before he could even open his belt to touch himself, Aaravos' work phone had gone off and cut their tryst short. It left Viren more frustrated than usual, causing him to snap at his colleagues and even slamming a report onto Crow’s desk until he ended in a shouting match with Harrow, of all people.

That elf had really gotten under his skin, hadn't he?

On Tuesday morning, Aaravos caught him in the elevator, alone. He did not say much, just used his taller build to shove Viren back against the wall and licked deep into his mouth, pulling him close by his tie until Viren felt as choked by it as by the heat of Aaravos’ kiss, nearly whimpering when Aaravos cupped him through his pants.

“Let me fuck you,” the elf practically purred into his ear, squeezing him expertly. “You’ve made me wait long enough for it.” 

Viren swallowed thickly, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks as he could just picture it, pushed onto his knees with Aaravos’ large hands holding him open, sliding in so good, with no room to escape and _yeah_ , he’d thought about it too during the last few days, feeling frustrated and antsy and unable to place why exactly.

He’d never needed it before. Not like this. 

But before he could reply, the fifth floor came up and Aaravos let go of him just in time as the elevator doors dinged open, revealing Ahling and Kasef. They both gave Viren a weird look as he cleared his throat and tightened his tie. From across the elevator, Viren returned Aaravos’ smirk with a glare, feeling the effect of the elf’s touch still tingling hot and insistent. He hoped nobody had noticed as he angled his hips to the side and willed his erection away.

Bloody, pointy-eared nuisance.

And then, _today_ , Aaravos found him in the copy-room. And after _that_ , in his post-coital haze, Viren foolishly accepted the elf’s invitation to see him in his office after work like a naive, love-stricken moron.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one will see the glorious consequence of that decision. Oh Viren.... ∠( ᐛ 」∠)


End file.
